


Need a Teacher

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Ben Solo is a Mess, Jedi Training (Star Wars), M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Finn needs to learn how to be a Jedi. Ben needs to learn how not to be a jerk.They can help each other, maybe.
Relationships: Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Party in the GFFA: Star Wars Flash Exchange 2020





	Need a Teacher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [K_Popsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Popsicle/gifts).



Rey would stop the fall completely. That’s what she’s like: kind, forgiving, empathetic. Hates to see anyone in pain. Ben, for better or worse, is not Rey.

He lets Finn hit the ground.

Probably for worse, if the sickening crunch is anything to go by.

‘What the hell was that?’ Finn bellows when Ben reaches the base of the jagged cliff. He’s sitting on the ground where he landed, sweating from pain, leg propped in front at an awkward angle. ‘You said you were going to hold me up.’

‘I did hold you up,’ Ben says. ‘Then I let you go.’

‘I thought this was meant to be a trust exercise!’

‘It was. You failed. If you’d trusted the Force like I told you, you wouldn’t have fallen. You’re lucky I slowed your descent or you’d have died on impact.’

‘Lucky?’ Finn spits a string of curse words that would make R2-D2 blush. ‘Just help me back to the outpost so I can get this splinted. Or are you going to tell me I should use the Force to float my way back?’

Snoke would have told Ben to walk on the injured leg. He also would have dealt a swift backhand in response to the attitude. Ben’s trying to be a gentler teacher, but his lessons don’t seem to be working and he can’t understand what’s going wrong. He would have caught his own fall without needing help. This setback is either his fault as a teacher or Finn’s as a student. And Ben isn’t used to accepting blame.

The warmth of Finn’s body against his is pure pragmatism as they stagger back to their speeder together. If Finn had a choice, Ben knows, he'd be firmly at arm's length. That’s fine.

* * *

‘You promised you’d teach Finn the ways of the Force,’ says Rey when she meets him back at the outpost. Her expression is tight with a disappointed anger that at this point he recognises better than her smile. The dust from the dunes outside doesn’t show in her hair as badly as it does in his, but he can still see it, sprinkled over the top of her head like coarse orange snowflakes. The air is always thick with it on the road from Mos Espa. She must have only just arrived back.

Tatooine. Southern hemisphere. Close enough to Luke Skywalker’s childhood home to make Ben’s skin crawl, but far enough away that he can’t easily visit the homestead for closure. This is the site Rey’s chosen for Finn to complete his Jedi training. She never asked for Ben’s opinion, just told him to make it work. He’s doing it because he owes her his cooperation – owes her everything. He can't help that she doesn’t like his methods.

‘I am teaching Finn the ways of the Force.’

‘He says you threw him off that cliff on purpose.’

‘Yeah, because I thought he’d catch himself. It’s how I learned. It’s how we both learned. We’re as strong as we are because we had to get strong to survive.’

A strange excitement swells in his chest whenever he thinks of Finn – a former stormtrooper, a child of war who withstood years of militarisation to become who he is. He hasn’t felt this kind of fascination since the day he saw Rey pick up a lightsaber for the first time in her life and immediately start wielding it like … well, like him. Ben has been training since he was ten years old. He has two full decades worth of combat experience and Force expertise to share. Finn has potential. Ben can unlock it, if Finn only lets him.

‘I had to get strong to survive _you,_ ’ Rey snaps. ‘I thought we’d moved past that. And Finn was stronger before you shattered his leg into shards.’

‘It’s a clean fracture,’ Ben snaps. ‘A few hours in bacta and he'll be back to normal.’ He knows no shortcuts to mastering the Force. It hurts. It’s meant to hurt. Rey’s asking for things he can’t give.

* * *

The look Finn gives him from the med cot could cut clean through a zillo beast’s hide. ‘What do you mean, why did I fall? Do we need some remedial physics here? See, when you drop people from heights–’

‘Don’t try to be smart. It doesn’t suit you.’ Ben’s temper is on tenterhooks, jaw aching as he grinds his teeth to hold back the more pointed reprimand he longs to deliver. Never in a million years would Snoke have let Ben speak to him like that. And ideological differences or not, Snoke’s teaching methods worked. Ben’s power testifies to that.

But Rey’s been explicit: play nice, or lose his student. Ben doesn’t want to stop teaching Finn. Not when it’s his only excuse to be close to – no. Not when there’s still so much untapped potential. Stopping his training now would be wasteful.

Calmer, he goes on, ‘You can learn a lot by examining your mistakes. You have the skills you need to make this exercise work, Finn. I’ve seen you levitate objects and repel projectiles. Holding your own body up is an extension of the same principle. My guess is you were distracted by your fear of falling, which you can only overcome by–’

‘Can’t this wait until I’m out of hospital?’

Something’s really bothering him. It can’t be the pain from his leg, because the med droids have already dosed him with more painkillers than Ben takes in an average year. ‘You’re going to lose days of training while your new bone growth solidifies,’ he points out. ‘We might as well use the downtime productively.’

‘Maybe I’m not in a productive mood.’

‘I can see that. If you’re not even willing to try–’

‘ _Try_.’ Ben, experienced as he is, knows the signs of a temper breaking its restraints. Finn’s has just ripped up the bolt post and is sprinting for him, chain trailing behind. ‘You want to talk about learning from mistakes? I’ve learned I was an idiot for putting myself in your crazy hands. Rey’s been telling everyone who’ll listen how much you’ve changed. When you asked me to trust you, I wanted to believe it meant–’ He breaks off, swallowing the end of his sentence like bitter medicine. ‘I made a leap of faith and put my life in your hands to see what you’d do with it. Now I have my answer, and a displaced tibial fracture to drive it home.’

‘You’ve had worse.’ Ben should know – he has personally inflicted worse on Finn, though not since he changed sides.

Maybe that’s why Finn’s overreacting so badly.

‘It’s not about how bad the break is,’ Finn says. ‘It’s about who you want to be now that you’re one of us. Because on this team, we don’t drop each other.’

They hold eye contact. Something inside Ben deflates. He knew, didn’t he? He knew Rey would have caught Finn, if she were there. Maybe his reasoning isn't as solid as he wants it to be. Maybe Finn's reaction isn't so excessive after all.

Snoke would have done what Ben did, or worse. But maybe Ben’s own training experiences aren’t the ideal template for what he’s trying to do now.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

Finn blinks. Blinks again. ‘Did you just apologise to me?’

‘I did. You’re right – your fall was my mistake, not yours. I can fix it, I think. If you give me another chance.’

Another chance. As if Ben hasn’t already had a lifetime’s worth of those.

But Finn doesn’t laugh in his face or yell for the droid to eject him from the medbay. ‘Give me a few days to work up to it,’ he says, and it’s more than Ben deserves.

* * *

The winds have picked up again. Orange dust swirls at the top of the cliff, sticking to Finn’s skin and catching in the tight curls of his hair. It doesn’t look dirty or grimy on him the way it does on Ben – he’s golden-hued, radiant, with the sinking sun casting its last rays behind him. Ben doesn’t tell him so because it has nothing to do with their training.

‘Trust,’ Finn says. Wary, but no longer angry like he was in the med bay.

‘Trust,’ Ben confirms.

The Force answers his call easily. He lifts Finn out over the edge and holds him there, floating high above solid ground, supported by nothing but the strength of Ben’s will.

‘I won’t let go until you’re ready,’ Ben says. The promise tastes strange. This isn’t the way he mastered his powers – he’s teaching something he doesn’t know himself. ‘And I’ll catch you if you fall.’

Finn takes a deep breath. Ben can see his throat moving, see his chest expanding and contracting as he steadies his mind and reaches out into the Force. ‘I’m ready. You can let go.’

A breathless pause. A moment, then another. ‘It’s working,’ Finn says, his face lighting up bright enough to outshine the sun itself. ‘Ben, it’s working. Look at me!’

‘I’m looking.’

‘I can float!’ Raw joy, giddy triumph. Not all of it Finn’s. Ben has never felt like this before. Never been part of a lesson like this. Never, now he comes to think of it, heard his name with such warmth on Finn’s lips.

‘Don’t overdo it,’ he says, trying to be the calm one as his heartbeat picks up momentum in his chest. ‘Draw yourself back to the edge. Reach my hand, if you can.’

Finn comes back. He’s smiling from ear to ear as his fingers lace with Ben’s, as Ben grips tight and pulls him back to the safety of solid ground. He doesn’t let go as promptly as he should. Neither does Finn. 

This isn’t how Ben learned to master the Force. But on balance, maybe that’s a good thing.


End file.
